Day 3: How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?

...as sung by Kat while scampering up a mountain.  Twice.
Today is brought to you by Kat and Beks (I hate when my sister spells it with an “x.”)  So we are up a computer.  As that computer is mine (Beks), huzzah!   We also went up a mountain.  Again.  Came down a creek.  Again.  And slid on all parts in between.  Good times.

Due to our present state of exhaustion, today’s posting will be presented to you in the form of favorites and pictures.

Breakfast.  When on the Coast to Coast, it is acceptable (and expected)  to eat the following every morning for breakfast – cereal, toast with homemade preserves singular to the village, poached eggs, roasted tomatoes and mushrooms, country ham, baked beans, juice, tea and/or coffee.  None of those paltry Weight Watcher servings here.  Also, no water.

Movie Monologues: (Kat here.)

"Are we there yet? I'm tired of bogs and smogs, soaked feet and aching limbs. And yes, the part where all essential undergarments seem lost in a eternal state of dampness--I am none too thrilled. AND none of y'all ever offer up any sort of conversation, thus I am left listening to my own heavy panting."
"Katie, we haven't even made it out of the village."
"Whatever."
"You get bored so easily."
"Oh contraire. I amuse myself QUITE easily."
(Long pause.)
"MISS ELIZABETH."
"Oh, Lord. Please, NO."
"I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer!"
"Katie, NO."
"These past few months have been a TORMENT."
(Sarah to Beks) "Shall I smack her booty with my walking poles?"
"I came to Rosings for the single object of seeing you; I HAD TO SEE YOU."
"Katie--"
"I fought against my better judgment--"
"KATIE--"
"My family's expectations--"
"We're abandoning her to the bog."
"Theinferiorityofyourbirthbyrank,soicanstartallthesethings,andI'mwillingtoputallthisasideandb
  egyoutoendmyagony!"

She quoted the whole scene. Word for word. And for those of you who are, ALAS, unaquainted with Pride and Prejudice references, I have nothing to say to you.
Except--you poor, poor souls.

Favorite songs.  41 miles into the trip, we have learned if you wish to scamper up mountains or leap like goats, you should listen to Muse’s "Super Massive Black Hole."  Kat left us in a poof of energy.  Next spotted, she was sitting on a rock panting as the song had ended.  Along with her energy.  Mom (Rachel) took another route.  It involved the singing of hymns.  As she never slipped and the rest of us did, clearly this is effective.

Naming of the Knees.   While walking with my mother today bewailing the state of our knees, I suggested we name them.  Immediately, my left knee presented itself as Otis.  To which my mother responded that her left knee is called Never and her right knee is called More.  Never, she informed me, no longer works.  And therefore, More has to do, well, more.  It took 12 hours for my right knee to be named – Freida. 

You’ll be happy to know, Never, More, Otis, Freida are doing all right this evening, thank you.

Favorite  scene.  The Top.  Refer to picture.

Favorite pet.  Stella.  The light gray cat that leaped through our bathroom window three times.  Also leapt through the front window after Beks put her out the first time.  Enraptured by her enthusiasm, Kat just put her on the bed.  Pictures to follow tomorrow of Stella.

Favorite moment.  Kat experienced her first British tea time.  4:30 p.m.  Kat walked into the conservatory.  4:31 p.m.  Kat spied the tea cart complete with an entire shelf of tea cakes in four different varieties.  4:32 p.m. Kat declares her life complete.

Favorite poem.  Sarah here.  (Get your shot glass ready Becky.)  We are in the picturesque village of Grasmere.  The surrounding countryside looks like scenes out of Rivendale in Lord of the Rings (mentioned in all three of the books: Fellowship of the Ring, the Two Towers and Return of the King) and the village could be Hogsmeade in Harry Potter (mentioned in Prisoner of Azkaban, Goblet of Fire, Order of the Phoenix, Half Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows).  William Wordswoth, the English Romantic poet and author of the Lyrical Ballads (refers to two books - the 1798 and 1800 publications), lived and wrote here, and is buried in the small cemetery behind the 800 year old church, St. Oswalds.  Near his tomb is a garden that reads,

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude,

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

~William Wadsworth (That's 10.  Salud R3.)